


And Thus It Began

by eldritcher



Series: The Journal of Maglor [5]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 05:01:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4006774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldritcher/pseuds/eldritcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhere down the line, they have this brilliant idea of getting married.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Thus It Began

I ran a hand through my hair as I examined my reflection in the mirror. Blue eyes, I noted, they looked rather naïve, foolish and unbearably happy. I frowned as I tried to will a measure of calm dignity and wisdom into them. It was in vain, I merely looked ridiculous.

Sighing, I glared at the image. Was it my imagination or did I look paler than was my wont?

“Cousin”, a richly amused voice informed me, “You look abominably pale.”

I groaned as I turned to face the indolently smirking face of my cousin, who lay sprawled languidly on the decadent bed, “Oropher, it is hard enough to mentally ready myself for a wedding, my wedding, without enduring your well-meaning wit.”

“I assure you”, he laughed, “You do look pale, cousin. And I shall forbear from further witticisms and pour you a much-needed goblet of wine.”

“Make it ale”, I muttered, “Or something stronger.”

“You will taste horrible, it will not do. You have a kiss coming up”, he stated with a straight face as he set about pouring a generous amount of wine into a goblet.

I shuddered as I imagined Thingol asking her if she was ready to wed me. What if she had second thoughts? What if her brother turned up at the last moment and dragged her away to Nargothond? What if…

“You are shivering”, Oropher gleefully remarked, “I have rarely seen wedding day nerves of this intensity before, cousin-mine.”

I reigned myself to his sarcasm and cautiously spoke, trying to hide my skittishness, “Things shall go well, shall they not?”

“I am sure that the feast will be magnificent and the venison will be well-done”, Oropher chuckled, I looked imploringly at him, willing him to understand.

“Eru!” he laughed, “You are really scared, aren’t you, Celeborn?”

I nodded, running my hand through my hair again, Silver Tree, I remembered distractedly, she had taken to calling me so. A lunatic grin surfaced on my face as I recalled her tone pronouncing my name softly. The grin however was hastily wiped off by my current situation. I had a vivid flash of the ceremony hall; of her proud form unwavering as she said clearly, “I do not consent.”

I dimly recall the sudden lightness that assailed me, and my cousin’s arms going about my frame.

 

 

“Truly the splendour of a princess of your people”, Melian remarked as she finished me.

“It is indeed then a pity that none of them are here to pass judgment”, I said in a low voice, my tone sharper than I had intended it to be.

“I am sorry”, I hastily apologized as I looked up into her serenely smiling face, “I did not mean to be so rude.”

“It is the nerves”, she said laughing, “I have seen many affected in a worse manner on their wedding day, Nerwen.”

I nodded noncommittally, I have seen many weddings. I could recall my cousin Macalaure’s wedding in Nolofinwe’s fortress. I relaxed as I thought of him, letting Melian’s dexterous fingers work with my lustrous hair. I wondered how any of my kin would react when they heard the news. Findarato had been enraged by my engagement and had left Menegroth in anger when I refused to reconsider. 

I can imagine Atarinke’s anger, he hates the Sindar so. And the rest of my kin too thinks of Doriath as an abode of uncivilized pagans. They would be furious with me, just as well that I never intend to return to them again. 

My father, I suppressed my thoughts hastily, the years had not smoothened the pain of his betrayal. My eldest cousin might understand me, I thought, he has always respected the Sindar for the valiant race that they are.

“A pity that he has been tossed so by the winds of fates”, Melian remarked as she deftly spun braids into my hair.

I am so accustomed to her breaking into my thoughts at random that I simply said, “It would have been better if the fates felt the pity that you do, Melian.”

She did not reply and I was about to look up, when a solid cold something was placed on my hair. I glanced into the mirror and saw an amethyst tiara, so different from the intricately woven circlets of my House.

“Celeborn’s insignia”, she explained, as I touched the heavy object carefully, “He wanted a suitable ornament made for the day, to grace the hair that he adores so deeply. Elu had to call in the dwarves to complete it.”

“I think it is splendid”, I smiled, even as I wondered how my head could bear the heavy object, a ridiculous warmth flooded me suddenly as I thought of Celeborn inspired enough to have this wrought despite his hatred for the dwarves.

“And while it is custom in our lands for the bride’s family to bestow ornaments on her”, Melian cleared her throat delicately, “You look resplendent enough.”

Of course, she meant that I had no family to escort me into the hall. I held my head high as I said proudly, “My family would be overjoyed for me, I know. It is sad that I could not have their presence now. But”, I withdrew a box from beneath my bed, “They have bestowed enough and more upon me.”

I uncovered the box to reveal its contents. A single sparkling jewel lay on the velvet padding, its sharply cut surfaces reflecting the sheen of my hair and shining splendidly.

“A work of Feanor”, Melian whispered in awe.

“Yes, a work of my uncle”, I said proudly as I clasped it around my neck and rose to my feet, “They are ever in my soul, and I am ready.”

 

 

“My dearest idiot”, Oropher’s voice was scandalized, “You are overdoing it.”

“What?” I said groggily as he helped me to my feet. I could taste strong ale on my tongue.

He dragged me forcefully out of the room as he hissed, “We do not want to be late!” he spared me a glare, “Never dare to faint on me again!”

“I fainted?” I asked stunned temporarily, as I imagined myself swooning like a lovesick adolescent into his hands.

“Very splendidly”, he said sarcastically, “Celeborn, I cannot tell you how unlucky that poor lady is. The Noldor seems to love lost causes.”

“Did you just refer to me as a lost cause?” I asked for confirmation as we reached the hall. My hand was once again running through my hair in nervousness.

Oropher slapped my hand away and then straightened my collar before leading me into the hall. The chamber was filled with the guests who stared at me with rather obscene curiosity. I could not blame them; I was the only Sindar who had gone against Thingol’s edict of not marrying into the Exiles. Something is wrong with me, I suppose.

As I waited impatiently, shuffling my feet until Oropher kicked me discreetly, I ran all the possible scenarios of rejection in my mind. I had meant to brave it through, but the appraisal just made me sick and dizzy. For Oropher’s sake, I must not faint again.

Then the far doors opened and the herald announced, “Hail, Nerwen, Daughter of Finarfin, Son of Finwe!”

She entered alone. No father or brother or cousin was there to lead her down the aisle. I felt regret bloom noxiously in my mind as I thought of all that she had given up for my sake, for our sakes.

Then Oropher whispered, “She looks as if she were Elbereth herself.”

I raised my fearful eyes to her. Arrayed in a resplendent white gown that floated gently about her tall frame, her elegant posture and proud gait made me fall all in love again. There was no coyness of demure brides, no shyness or fear. The blood in her veins was proud and withheld nothing. The cave walls glittered as the striking jewel that adorned her neck glowed, throwing her beautiful features into Valar-like splendour. The golden tresses that I loved so were today encumbered by the tiara I had had wrought by those despicable dwarves. Yet they shone brighter than any jewel, the light of Valinor shining in them.

Our eyes met and as I saw the fire in her proud, blue gaze, I knew that she was worth everything I had and more. 

“Altariel”, I whispered as she reached me, “To me, you shall ever be Altariel.”


End file.
